7/24/17

Da Muse within, the rather noisy, smoke alarm like trigger from the creative hemisphere of my brain, has not been demanding a response lately. In other words, a bit of writer’s block had set in. Usually fanning the fires of prose and poetry, unlike the typical smoke alarm, Da Muse sends smoke signals, warning me against the damp, muddy, extinguishing silence of doubt. It is a doubt so dark and elusive, unnoticed at first, beginning at the edges, then ending by eclipsing each moonlit glimpse of illumination. Yet, like the lunar cycle, Da Muse knows how to set the poetic synapses into motion phase by phase.   Eyes closed, I imagine Her (of course a feminine force) place the fattest, warmest, moon shaped manju under my nose. Sniffing familiar childhood aromas, I dream of hot, just out of the oven, crispy brown crumbs and bean paste stuck between my teeth. Then, without hesitation, eyes open, I smile and eat it. Da Muse likes Manju and so do I. The anticipation of Obon festival, is now a little, bite size, bon fire warming the manju of my mind.

Yesterday was the beginning of the Manju marathon at da Temple. It was day one of Manju preparation. The small crew of 2 master Manju makers, their 13 yr.old apprentice, and 4 assistants, including myself, prepared big, bowls of stick yellow dough and dainty, grape sized balls of even stickier red bean paste. All was wrapped, refrigerated and ready to bake 1800 individual servings of Manju for the next day. Yup! 1800! The number is slightly less than estimated to show up for the festivities and food galore! No one is calorie counting on Obon weekend. It’s two nights of eating to your hearts content and dancing your happy buns off in the dance ring.Full stomachs and slightly bigger okoles (butts) circle the tower of swinging pink lanterns, loud music and merriment. The merriment is punctuated by somber rituals led by the Bonsan ( Buddhist priest) , welcoming the spirits of our dead ancestors and honoring their memory with prayer and incense. Then the circle of celebration keeps spinning until 10pm. Powered by 1800 manju , the festivities keep Hanapepe well awake for an unusually late night.

This morning, at around 8:30am, at da Temple kitchen, I dropped approximately number 43 of the 1757 manju still to be made by the end of today’s marathon. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good start for the novice manju maker. Soon afterward, it was suggested I assist the 13yr old girl apprentice with the stamping of the completed manju assembled by the long table of mostly elderly temple ladies. The temple ladies were of course expert manju crafters, molding the dough first into perfect spheres, then like magicians a flower would appear, then a lovely mini-designer-handbag holding the grape-like ball of bean paste, then poof, out of thin air a yellow pregnant moon would rise from their palms and float onto the baking sheet, ready for a cute little food colored stamp in red or green.

The young apprentice used the red colored, cherry blossom shaped stamp and the elder, less experienced manju team member, had the green circle. Another moon shape stamped on my manju horizon was a pleasurable, stress free task. The stamps themselves were carved onto the bottoms of wooden handles fitting comfortably in the palm. The day of assembling, stamping, baking and packing was interrupted by a welcome lunch created by da Temple cook. A magician herself, we all were transported to a blissful land of ono (delicious), mouth watering aromas and flavors of teriyaki meatloaf, pickled cucumber in shoyu/ginger sauce, delicately thin shrimp omelets, hearty pork laulau (Hawaiian style meat in steamed taro leaves), fresh tofu with fresh grated ginger and green onions, salami wrapped in musubi ( rice ball with dried nori wrapper), steamed rice and fresh watermelon sprinkled with lihing mui powder (salty,sweet,sour Chinese plum seasoning). There was more to take home in ready made box lunch containers too. Lots of coffee, tea, cold bottled water at our fingertips available to enjoy with lunch and stay hydrated on a humid day. Let us not forget manju too, for dessert.

The day ended with nearly all 1800 available for sale at the festival. Affordably priced at $5 for a package of 5 of these handcrafted, hand stamped, memorable treats were made by a few devoted expert and one non-expert manju marathoner. We all crossed the finish line together, went home with our box lunches to be eaten for dinner and resting for another day of Obon adventure.